


without you.

by Dame_Dulces



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Lupin the Third reference, M/M, Phantom Thief AU, Post-Break Up, Saihara Shuichi-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 17:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dame_Dulces/pseuds/Dame_Dulces
Summary: Detective Saihara runs away with Kokichi Ouma, the infamous Phantom Thief. But their life together isn't what he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A completed multi-chapter fic? In MY ao3? It's more likely than you think!
> 
> I'd like to personally thank [Nebby_Webby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebby_Webby/pseuds/Nebby_Webby) for being my enthusiastic beta reader and gassing me up, even when I felt like I didn't deserve it. I borrowed a lot of your ideas and valuable input, this fic wouldn't exist without you!
> 
> I used an idea from the Lupin the Third: Part 5 anime. If you recognize the reference ilysm.
> 
> Please, enjoy!

As the honeysuckle light of dawn creeped into the makeshift bedroom, Shuichi sat on the edge of the twin-sized bed with half-dreaming eyes and welcomed the first streaks of morning into the darkened shack.

He didn’t know what time it was - it didn’t really matter at this point, anyway - but he’d be damned if he missed a sunrise. It was the one time of day he could be alone with his thoughts without constant interjection from the man who lay beside him. Besides, the early hours reminded him of the life he once had not too long ago, when he spent his mornings hunched over a cup of joe as he read through his daily cases before hitting the streets. Just two years had passed, but it felt like a lifetime had gone by.

He glanced at the mass of frazzled hair attached to the pile of bones beside him. Plum-colored locks sprawled across two pillows, tentacle-like tendrils that Shuichi knew all too well were softer than the Egyptian cotton sheets that lay beneath him. He observed the slight curve of his waist as it rose and fell in between deep sleepy breaths. It was thin and somewhat frail, the pasty skin stretched against the bones and dotted with bluish-purplish veins. The faint smell of vanilla and warm sugar wafted in the air, mixing in with the scent of grape soda and musk. He had never taken Kokichi to be the type of person to frequent places like Bath and Body Works, nor did he expect him to employ a 12-step skincare routine every night. 

But then again, Kokichi was full of surprises. That was only one of the reasons why Shuichi found himself shacked up with him in this rundown warehouse and staring out a cloudy old window, the only bit of freedom he was currently allowed.

_ You chose this _ , a voice rang through his head.  _ This is what you wanted _ . He didn’t bother arguing back.

He stood up and caused the bed springs to squeak slightly, but Kokichi didn’t stir. Shuichi had quickly learned how heavy of a sleeper he was. When that man slept, he slept hard. Nothing could wake him from his pleasant slumber; any attempt was as futile as trying to cut down a tree with a butter knife.

Running a hand through his oily black hair, he sighed and wondered what the hell was going to happen next. Kokichi had mentioned going to Sweden (or was it Switzerland? He couldn’t keep track anymore), but he had no idea if or when that was happening. They’d been waiting over a week for one of the D.I.C.E. members to transfer the funds from the Swiss bank account into Kokichi’s secret stash, but it was taking much longer than originally planned. Normally he wouldn’t mind - after two years, he was used to the constant change of plans and the uncertainty of everything - but for some reason, now, he felt himself getting more and more stir crazy as the long hours of each day dragged on endlessly.

How much longer would they be pent up in this abandoned warehouse? He wasn’t allowed to go outside without a disguise, but they hadn’t had a chance to grab theirs when they fled their last hideout after an ambush by the local police force. That had been a close one. Kokichi and Shuichi had barely managed to escape that time.

For once, he wished they could just stay in one place for longer than a few weeks. He was growing weary of the constant running, the suffocating face masks, the colored lenses that made his eyes burn and his head ache. He wanted to settle down once and for all. He wanted to settle down with Kokichi.

He sighed when the last bit of marigold sun rose over the horizon. A sunrise view - he was grateful for that at least. Feeling the fatigue of the early morning finally hit him, he sauntered back to the bed and dropped like a deadweight back onto his little portion. 

He barely had time to take a breath before he was attacked.

“-- OOF! Ahhh…! Kich!!”

Twig-like fingers held both of his wrists down beside his head. He stared into the lilac irises that gazed down at him as they scanned his body inch by inch, licking his lips in anticipation as if searching for the perfect place to take a bite.

“You’re up early,” were the first groggy words that came from Kokichi’s parched lips. 

“I thought you were still asleep,” Shuichi stated with a twinge in his voice.

“Shumai woke me up. He tossed and turned all night and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kokichi leaned in closer, barely grazing the outside of Shuichi’s ear. He shivered at the almost-touch and instinctively scrunched his shoulders.

“Just kidding. I slept like a baby.”

The warmth of his breath and the honey-like whisper of his voice sent chills down Shuichi’s spine. He didn’t dare react, less he spur on Kokichi even more. That’s always how it went.

But it wouldn’t be fun if he gave up that easily.

“Makes sense. You look like a baby.”

That did it. Kokichi went in for the kill. A pair of lips fluttered against his neck. He let out a breathy gasp, then one long moan. 

“Kich-! Aaaaahaaa…!”

The phantom thief pulled away just for a moment to tease his prey.

“At least I don’t whimper like a baby every time I’m kissed.”

“That’s… nnnot… faaair… mmmm…” Shuichi could barely form a comeback. Peppered kisses along his jaw and collarbones rendered him silent, lest for the low-pitched groans of pleasure emerging from his throat. Kokichi caressed him all the way down, from chest to ribs to stomach. No skin went unkissed on his path of destruction.

“Kichi… it’s too early… mmmm…”

The kisser paused and looked up, furrowing his thin brows in fake annoyance.

“Hmph… Shumai is such a buzzkill…”

He crawled off and plopped down beside Shuichi in his original position. Face towards the ceiling, eyes staring off into the void. The former detective sat up and threw one arm across his torso.

“Hey. Come here.”

“Hmmm?”

“Nevermind. I’ll come to you.”

He got his revenge by surprising Kokichi with a gentle peck on the lips. It was enough; the supreme leader turned bright red upon contact and Shuichi saw a visual shudder coarse through his body. His round eyes grew even bigger, and his hands shot up to cover his cheeks. But Shuichi expected this, and grabbed them before he could hide.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he spoke reassuringly. “I like seeing you like this.”

Kokichi was speechless. Shuichi loved these moments. Catching the leader of D.I.C.E. off guard was rare, but precious. Like the gems they stole on their heists all those years ago, but much more valuable in Shuichi’s eyes.

“That’s not fair…” Kokichi mumbled. He just chuckled, and gave him another quick kiss on his fire hot cheek. 

"All is fair in love and war,” the black-haired man teased before laying back down.

They stayed there for a while. Holding each other. Caressing bare skin. Listening to the eerie quietness of the warehouse and the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance. The sunlight grew brighter as the minutes ticked on.

“Hey, Kokichi,” Shuichi said aloud after god knows how long. “When can we get out of here?”

He didn’t respond at first. Those lilac eyes focused on the blank white ceiling. Searching. Thinking. Planning.

“Today, if everything goes well,” he finally said after several seconds. “Yuuto is bringing cash around noon. It’s not a lot, but it’ll be enough for us to get the hell out of dodge and establish a new headquarters.”

“Where will we go?”

“I told you already, dum dum,” - he booped him on the tip of his nose - “we’re going to Switzerland. It’ll be easier for me to access the account when I’m actually in-country. Then we won’t have to wait on the other members to sneak it in for us.”

Now it was Shuichi’s turn to gaze at the ceiling.

“Kichi… how long will be be in Switzerland?”

More silence. More pondering.

“I don’t know.”

Shuichi rolled onto his side again. He pushed some of Kokichi’s bangs out of his face. He looked kinda funny without his octopus-like mane covering his face. Even younger than he already did.

“Why don’t we buy a house there? Settle down for a bit? It doesn’t have to be in the city, maybe someplace out in the country… you know?” It came out more enthusiastic and pathetic than he’d wanted. Shit.

“Shuichi,” Kokichi said with a serious tone. The look in his eyes told him that he wasn’t playing any more. “You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not? We never stay somewhere longer than a few weeks. Moving around all the time is tiring. I wanna stay in one place for awhile… can’t we do that, at least?”

“I already told you why we can’t. It’s too dangerous. Someone might recognize us… I mean, me. It’s safer to keep on the move.”

Shuichi didn’t say anything more. His disappointment hung in the air like the smell of musk and warm vanilla sugar. He tried to hide his disappointment, but Kokichi read his face like a book. He never was very good at lying. Perhaps that was why this lifestyle was hard on him.

“Heeeeey,” Kokichi cupped his beloved’s face and spoke softly. “What’s this all about?”

He looked at his lover with weary eyes that were wet with longing.

“I miss home.”

Kokichi’s mouth parted. A lone tear raced down Shuichi’s face; Kokichi caught it with his thumb before it could fall. He wrapped him in a warm embrace, cradling his head as he stroked his fingers through his midnight hair.

“This is home.”

Shuichi scoffed.

“An old shoe factory warehouse? That’s what you call home?”

“No. Home is here. With you.”

The detective pulled him closer. The sunlight covered them like a warm blanket, immune to the passage of time that floated by soundlessly. 

“I’ll see what I can do about the house,” Shuichi heard the promise whispered in his ear. “And that’s not a lie.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Kokichi’s as if to say “I believe you.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ -Two years earlier- _

 

_ Bump. Bump. Bump. _

Thirty-four minutes. That’s how long they had been in this truck. No windows, no doors. No way out. 

Detective Saihara had finally done it. His perseverance had paid off after all these long years. The fourteen hour workdays he spent gathering evidence, the skipped meals he dedicated to piecing said evidence together, the weekends he pined over an elusive shadow, and the nights he sat half awake curled over endless cups of French press had all brought him to this moment. 

The phantom thief had been apprehended. And he was alone with him now.

Ouma was eerily still. Bound to a metal chair with chains roped around his lithe frame gave him little wiggle room. The straightjacket he donned held his arms at his sides tightly in a self-hug that would have looked endearing if Saihara hadn’t known better. His trademark smug grin still plastered across his face. Even with his back against the wall, he refused to unmask himself. It made Saihara feel simultaneously exasperated and curious.

“Congratulations, Mister Detective,” the thief started up after a long bout of silence. “How does it feel knowing you’ve caught the world famous Phantom Thief single-handedly?”

Saihara responded by blinking rapidly. He wasn’t facing Ouma directly, choosing instead to stare at the back doors across from where his suspect was tied. His chin rested comfortably in the palm of his hand and his elbow balanced on one leg that bounced up and down in a display of anxiousness.

“I gotta say, it’s been a wild ride,” Ouma continued. “You were the only one that could ever keep up with me. None of the other inspectors held a candle to you.”

The detective stayed silent. He knew Ouma well enough to recognize his tricks. He was baiting him into a conversation he wasn’t keen on having at the moment.

“Soooo… did you have fun?”

He said not a word.

“I wasn’t boring, was I?”

Nothing. 

“Come onnnn… don’t be so coy… I’m gonna cry if I can’t talk to Saihara-chan one last time before I rot in prison for the rest of my life…”

Saihara heard faint snuffling, and sighed in half-irritation and half-amusement.

“No. You weren’t boring.”

“Ah, he finally speaks.”

The black-haired man turned to face his captive. The sniffles disappeared as quickly as they came and he saw Ouma donning a big shit-eating smile that stretched from ear to ear. Humming merrily, as if he wasn’t on lockdown and heading towards life in a high security prison.

“What exactly are you trying to do? If this is some ploy to escape, then you may as well give up now.”

The Phantom Thief shook his head. Purple strands of frizzy hair swung from left to right.

“Oh no, Mister Detective, I’ve accepted my fate. You caught me fair and square. It would be cheating if I tried to get away after all you went through to catch me.”

Saihara just watched him in awe. Even now, Ouma was hanging onto this idea of a game. He absolutely baffled him. This young man, with the heart of a child and the immaturity to match. Was this Ouma’s true self all along? This persona of the Phantom Thief that he believed to be a lie… he had trouble believing it was all an act, especially now during the final showdown. There were so many mysteries yet to solve, so many puzzles left to crack, so many stones unturned… Saihara felt his stomach lurch at the uncertainty.

_ Am I really ready for this to end…? _

“I can’t believe the game is finally over,” Ouma pouted. “I guess I don’t mind that it ended like this. I wouldn’t want anyone else to catch me besides you.”

The detective looked away quickly, hoping the hide the blush rising in his cheeks. Damn it! Ouma always knew how to get him.

“Though I have to admit, I’m reeeeally gonna miss seeing your stupid face every time I get away. It’s priceless. I’d give anything to see it one more time.”

Saihara knew he would regret this, but there was one thing on his mind that he knew he had to have the answer to. Before Ouma was locked away and forever out of his reach.

“Do you regret it?”

“Hmmm?”

His question seemed to catch Ouma by surprise. He asked again.

“Do you regret it? Any of it?”

Ouma tilted his chin to the ceiling, doing his best to mime a philosophical expression without the use of his hands. He responded after a few short seconds.

“Mmm… nope! This was probably the most exciting thing that’s happened in my whole life! And the best part was...” - he stared directly at Saihara’s blushing face - “...meeting the cutest detective in the entire Tokyo police force.”

Saihara covered his mouth with one hand in a weak attempt to hide his affections. He should have known Ouma would’ve made a comment like that. He always did whenever he wanted to throw him off. He murmured something inaudible, which Ouma promptly ignored.

“The only thing I reeeeeally regret is not spending more time with my beloved Saihara-chaaaan~! I wanted to have a lot more fun together… hmph...”

“Is that a lie?” the detective mumbled from behind his palm.

“What do you think?”

Silence.

“I can never figure you out,” began Saihara, melancholy dripping from his voice. He dropped his hand so he could speak more clearly. “No matter how many hours I spend analyzing your voice, or your words, or your actions… nothing ever matches up. Every time I think I’m getting close, you throw me through a loop and I’m back at square one. As if I hadn’t actually learned anything.”

He rested his golden eyes on the tied thief and gave him a weak half smile. 

“That’s what I regret, Ouma. Never solving your last riddle.”

No words were exchanged for some time. Saihara returned to staring blankly at the wall, while Ouma fell silent in deep thought. 

“What if I said there was still a chance.”

“... What?”

The detective looked back and saw Ouma’s eyes suddenly filled with determination. An expression he didn’t recognize. Out of all of his faces, this was one he had never seen before. He wondered if this was reserved for his subordinates or his partners in crime. 

What did this mean for him, now?

“In about three minutes the truck will hit a pothole. There’s a device in my back pocket that will trigger an explosion if pressed. Both of us will be able to escape if it’s pressed at the right moment. My hands are a bit tied, so I can’t reach it… but you can, if you want to.”

“Huh?”

“There’s an escape hatch below us with two dummies. Those will be the decoys. Once it’s over and done with, no one will be able to tell if they’re human or not.”

“Ouma… what are you…?”

“Run away with me, Saihara-chan.”

The black-haired man was at a loss for words.

“... Run… away?”

“I already told you. It’s cheating if I try to get away. But if you make the move… the game will keep going.”

Ouma popped out his hip and suddenly Saihara saw what he was talking about. A small, rectangular device with a glowing red button peeked out from his back pocket. 

“But only if you want it to.”

Saihara didn’t move a muscle. While his body froze, his mind raced. A million possibilities crossed his mind, branches of timelines weaving and twisting together. All the fantasies he had written off as child’s play and make believe suddenly opened their doors to endings he never thought were possible. 

Was this really happening?

Was he  _ really _ considering running away with the most notorious thief of this generation?

The idea itself was nuts, absolutely bonkers. It defied the logic Saihara lived by and the morals he forced himself to adhere to as an enforcer of the law. He knew what that kind of life would entail and what obstacles they’d have to overcome to make something like this happen. 

No, it was out of the question.

But this was his chance to know Ouma 

No. It was over. Ouma was going to pay for his crimes and receive justice, however long the judge and jury decided that would be.

But locking him away for the rest of his life… could Saihara live with himself after that?

“The choice is yours,” Kokichi piped up, interrupting Saihara’s internal argument. “I’m ready to accept whatever the outcome may be. Whether you reject me or not. But I’m wondering…”

He leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone as his sultry voice fell gently upon Saihara’s ears.

“Are you ready for things to end right here, right now?”

Saihara’s eyes didn’t leave his.

“I won’t be able to see my friends or family again… will I?”

Ouma shook his head, a little softer this time so his hair didn’t fly about his head so wildly.

“No. At least not as Shuichi Saihara.”

The detective rubbed his chin pensively as he considered every detail of this plan.

“I’ll have to wear a disguise… run from the authorities like a criminal…”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s kind of fun dressing up all the time!”

“How do I know you won’t betray me?”

The thief smirked, preparing his next question as if he already knew the answer.

“How could I betray the man I’ve been madly in love with after all this time?”

“Is that another lie?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out.”

The confession, on top of the recent proposition, would have normally reduced Saihara to a pile of jello. But something came over the detective that even he didn’t recognize. He had made up his mind, and figured the impulsivity of his decision was giving him the courage to act upon his desires for once in his life.

He stood up and slowly made his way to Ouma’s chair. Taking a seat in his lap, he held the thief’s face in his hands before pulling him into a deep kiss. The moment didn’t last long; the two of them nearly went flying when the armored truck ran over a bump in the road that threw them both off balance. Remembering Ouma’s words, his hands scrambled to find the ticket to the future he dreamed of.

Saihara caught the device as it fell from his pocket and pressed the button, sealing both his and Ouma’s fates.


	3. Chapter 3

_ -Two and a half years later- _

  
  


Shuichi’s knuckles were bone white. He clutched the suitcase in his hand and stood frozen in place. 

He hadn’t left the house in months. Perhaps that was why he was so hesitant to leave now. The million dollar home that felt like paradise when they first moved in had become a prison faster than Shuichi could comprehend. Once they’d gotten their hands on the heist money, the two delinquents had hopped on the next flight to Europe. Switzerland, just like Kokichi had promised. Their house was nestled in the snowy mountains of the Swiss Alps, enclosed in a winter paradise far away from everyone who had known them and everything they had known. 

Kokichi had honored his request, but at a cost he couldn’t afford. 

Every second that passed in that cozy cabin curled tightly around his neck like murderous fingers. Stealing the breath from his lungs. Sucking the soul right out of him. He knew he had to get out, at minimum for a little while, or else he was going to lose his mind. He hoped Kokichi would understand. He prayed he would.

But his prayers fell on God’s deaf ears. No sooner than he had made it to the door did he hear a perturbed voice ring out from behind him.

“Where are you going.”

There was no inflection in his voice. As if he already knew the answer. Shuichi spun around to face him, trying to mask his trembling hands and knees. Kokichi stood a few feet away with his chin held high and his expression blank. As he always did while he wore his disguise. 

“I’m going out. I need some fresh air.”

"Then open a window.”

He should’ve known better. There was no use lying to a liar. He sighed, ready to confess the truth he had failed to mask.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired of running away. I want to go home.”

“Don’t you get it?  _ This _ is home now. We don’t have anywhere to go back to.”

“You’re wrong. I do.”

“Ouch. Low blow.”

“I didn’t mean it that way…”

Kokichi crossed his arms and scowled. The amethyst of his eyes burned with a scorching rage despite his attempts to conceal it. Shuichi knew he had fueled the fire, and very little could be done to put it out.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead. You think you’re gonna be able to waltz back there like nothing ever happened? You faked your death! It’s over!”

“I’ll make it work. I don’t know how… but I will.”

The supreme leader crossed his arms. Shuichi saw him chewing on the inside of one lip. Tears sat on the surface of his eyes like dewdrops on spring buds. Prideful, sorrowful tears.

“How could you do this now? After all we’ve been through?” His voice faltered slightly. Like he was falling apart at the seams, right before Shuichi’s eyes.

“I… I didn’t think-”

“Well what DID you think? Did you think it was gonna be all sunshine and rainbows? You never thought things would get difficult being on the run constantly? You made this choice knowing the consequences and now you’re throwing it back in my face like it’s my fault.”

“Kokichi, that’s not fair.”

“No, you know what’s not fair? Opening yourself up to someone, cracking open your heart, letting yourself be vulnerable for once in your goddamn life only for the person you love to leave you… like nothing that happened even mattered...”

From fury to grief to an amalgamate of both, Shuichi watched the full spectrum of his emotions as he babbled on. Eyes wide with anger, then distorted by sorrow. By the time he finished, Kokichi had his back turned. Refusing to show any more. As if the hands of time had gone backwards, reverting them to strangers, the poker face Shuichi had spent two and a half years breaking down had returned. And there it would stay.

He took a few steps towards the broken man.

“Kichi… I do love you, I just… I don’t want to live like this. I want a regular life with you. I used to dream of introducing you to my family, and taking you out to dinner… proposing to you…” He murmured the last part, letting it trail off in hopes that Kokichi wouldn’t catch on.

“If you wanted that kind of life you should have found someone else.”

Shuichi was close enough to grab his hand. He took the weathered palm into his own and held it tightly against his chest. He breathed in, then back out, pressing his dry lips against the pale skin.

“Come with me. We can explain things together. They’ll listen to us, we just have to-”

“Get out of your make-believe world and face the facts,” - the former thief jerked his hand away - “Things will never go back to the way they were before. We both made damn sure of that.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Shuichi opened his mouth once, twice, but nothing came out. No words could fix the mess he’d created. No gestures could bring back what once was.

“Go if you’re gonna go. Just get out of here. I never want to see your stupid ugly face ever again.”

“Kokichi, please… I don’t want it to end like this…”

“I don’t want it to end at all but I guess that means jack shit to you.”

Tears broke through and stained Shuichi’s collar. He hadn’t noticed in the whirlwind of the conversation that he himself was breaking down, too.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Unlikely.”

“Kich…”

“It’s Ouma-kun to you.”

Another stab to the heart. Shuichi felt himself shattering more and more as things went on.

“Please… don’t do this…”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re the one that’s leaving.”

He knew it was useless at this point. He said all he could. Turning away, he picked up the suitcase and squeezed the handle tightly.

“I will always love you,” he confessed. He didn’t hear a response.

He took slow steps towards the door, turning back to look at the man he loved one last time.

Kokichi didn’t turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He waited until the door closed and the footsteps faded.
> 
> He wouldn’t cry in front of him, damn it. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
> 
> The tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks and wouldn’t cease. He fell to his knees. His fists pounded the floor. 
> 
> He begged for him to come back. Pleaded with God, with Buddha, anyone who was listening. He made impossible promises. He vowed to do better.
> 
> Alone, in the giant house on the edge of the mountain, his cries echoed off the high ceilings and went unanswered.
> 
> The walls he built crumbled and fell to ruin. 
> 
> “What the hell am I supposed to do now… without you?”


	4. Chapter 4

_-One year later-_

 

Reverse. Revert. Rewind.

Going back in time went as well as Saihara assumed it would.

He repeated his story to the press, to his former colleagues, to his loved ones and family members, just as he had practiced in his own mind over and over again. Careful to remember each detail, filling in the plot holes with cold hard facts and evidence. His specialty. They asked questions. He answered. Keeping things simple yet vague.

The truck transporting him and Kokichi Ouma had exploded after hitting a pothole on the way to the high security prison. Shuichi Saihara had suffered a head injury and subsequently lost his memory. For two and a half years, he had no recollection of who he was or where he came from. During those thirty lonely months, he wandered from country to country catching rides and handouts from kind strangers. He did everything he could to trigger his memory, but nothing stirred him until he saw a tattered wanted poster of the fallen Phantom Thief while he was passing through a small town in rural Japan. He got on the next train home, reborn as the man he once was.

They asked about the thief, of course. He confirmed that Kokichi Ouma had died at the scene. He saw him burn with his own eyes. The other body found had been the driver’s (in truth, that body had been reduced to ashes, but that was one of many lies Detective Saihara had to spin in order to protect his beloved.)

Most believed him. Some didn’t. But the ones who mattered most accepted his story at face value. He was proud of himself. He wondered if Kokichi would have been proud, too. He learned from the best, after all.

In time, he got his job back. Although things were much quieter now. There wasn’t much to do without the Phantom Thief to chase. None of the common thugs spawning in the city could compare to the legendary villain. The copycat criminals did their best, but always fell short. Saihara was ten steps ahead every time.

He owed it to Kokichi. Having him as his first rival sharpened his senses and challenged his rational mindset. These wannabe crooks almost took the fun out of detective work. Saihara could crack their cases in his sleep.

Speaking of sleep. Nights were the hardest. Sleeping alone for the first time in years was the hardest adjustment to make. He yearned for porcelain skin and the smell of vanilla sugar. He reached for scrawny limbs that were never there, never where they should have been. He nuzzled his face in soft pillows that barely rivaled the silken plum-colored locks. The Egyptian cotton bed sheets suddenly felt rougher. The empty place on the other side of the bed only reminded him of what was missing.

He dreamed of him every night. A child-sized man with a octopus-shaped hair would climb through his window in the dark of the night and crawl under the covers, snaking spindly fingers under his clothes, mapping out the territory of his skin. He never protested; he never said a word. Until one night, when he swore he hadn’t been graced by the mercy of sleep.

“Kokichi?” he asked in a dazed voice when he saw the shadow lurking near his window. It was still; unmoving.

“Has it been you, this whole time?” the figure didn’t respond. Before he could blink, it was gone. Vanished into the darkness, like a thief who had stolen away with something more precious than jewels.

It never returned after that.

  


~

  


“Detective Saihara. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

The black-haired man looked up at the chief of police from his desk. The blueish-purpleish bags under his eyes drooped down his face. His hand shook as it clutched the 7th mug of French press he had prepared for himself that day.

“Ye, yes?”

Kirigiri showed no pity for him, knowing all too well the signs of great detective work.

“Come with me. Our guest is waiting.”

At once, she started making her way out of his office. Saihara knew better than to dawdle. He seized the stack of papers he was reviewing and followed suit, close at his superior’s heels.

“Saihara. Law enforcement has changed dramatically in your absence. Are you aware of the current advancements in surveillance technology?”

The sleep deprived man shook his head.

“I can’t say I have. I mean, I know they have facial recognition software now...”

“Yes, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. There are many more programs out there that can do much more than simply recognize facial features.”

“... What are you getting at?”

“There are those who have developed comprehensive databases for personal information. Not only can we document the identities of the world’s most elusive criminals, but we can also find private data previously unknown to anyone, including government security agencies.”

Saihara felt his head spin as his supervisor went on. Did such technology actually exist? Was it even legal? If so, what did this mean for-?

They turned a sharp corner and he nearly tripped as he attempted to take in all the information she was throwing his way.

“Right now, this information is classified and not available to the public. In time, the leaders of each country will slowly introduce this program into the public to gauge the reactions of our citizens. If anyone asks, and I mean anyone, you are to say nothing.”

She shot him a glance sharp enough to cut through walls, and he gulped as he nodded in agreement.

They finally reached their destination. Kirigiri reached out and opened the door.

When he saw who was on the other side, Saihara’s jaw nearly fell to the floor.

“Detective Saihara. This is Micki Hokuao. The creator of PeopleLog, the program we have just finished discussing.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing in front of him was the man he had left behind in Switzerland. The man who haunted his dreams and his bed.

Granted, he looked nothing like himself in his current state. It was one of the better disguises he had used during their first few months on the run. He remembered the same curly blonde wig Kokichi had worn in the Bahamas, when he was masquerading as a trust fund child on spring break. The two different colored contact lenses, however, were from their time spent in South Korea when the former thief tried a different approach as a pop idol. That hadn’t gone well.

Saihara wanted to laugh out loud. It was so ridiculous, so absurd, so…

… so Kokichi.

The man showed no sign of recognition, nor bitterness, no malice.. As he expected from a master of disguise. Saihara did his best to play along, too.

“N, nice to make your acquaintance, Mister Hokuao,” he shook his hand with a quivering voice. His warm, familiar hand. Perhaps for a little too long. Kokichi (or, Hokuao) pulled away when he held on for too long.

“Yes, indeed. I look forward to working with you, Detective _Saihara_.”

The extra emphasis on his last name made his heart flutter. The first of many butterflies to come. The man in disguise turned on his heel and disappeared behind elevator doors as quickly as Saihara had arrived. He was left standing there, dumbfounded and heart pulsating with the giddiness of ten thousand newly birthed butterflies.

Kirigiri noticed his restlessness, but declined to comment directly. He was grateful for that.

“I expect that our work will be much more cut and dry with the help of Mister Hokuao.”

She put two reassuring hands on his shoulders, her way of showing concern for her frazzled subordinate.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, Saihara-kun. This is a lot to take in, I realize. And you seem a bit… off.”

His eyes widened as he nodded his head frantically. “Y, yes! I will. Th, thank you Kirigiri-san.”

As she promptly disappeared into the elevator, Saihara felt a sharp poke into the side of his hip. He looked down and saw a tiny purple envelope sticking out of his front pocket.

He pulled it out and ripped it open in one swift moment, scanning the contents with reddened eyes. He read it once, twice, then three or four more times, then another six times after that.

He dashed out of the room without a second thought.

  
  
  


_Thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t you?_

 

_I’ll be waiting in our usual place. Don’t be late._

  


_K.O._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A developer, huh? Why the sudden career change?”
> 
> “You know what I always say. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!”
> 
> “I can't believe you're really here... it feels like a dream.”
> 
> “Did you miss me?”
> 
> “Every day. Not a second went by that I didn’t think about you.”
> 
> “Neeheehee… what a looooser. You didn’t cross my mind at all, not even once.”
> 
> “That’s a lie.”
> 
> “Wooooow, you’re finally starting to catch on! I’m impressed, mister detective!”
> 
> “It’s Shumai to you.”
> 
> “Oh? And what are you gonna do if I don’t comply? Arrest me?”
> 
> “Why don’t you come over here and find out.”


End file.
